


my most piesed possession

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Birthday Presents, F/M, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Identity Reveal, Ladrien | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Has Anxiety, Podfic Welcome, Puns & Word Play, Romantic Fluff, sitting these two clowns down to talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: Last year, Marinette's birthday present to Adrien got caught in an akuma attack, and he doesn't know which present was hers, if he even knows she gave him one. The year before that, Adrien thought it was his father's gift, not Marinette's.Thisyear, she's not going to let anyone else take credit for what she made him. Even if she's still too shy to hand it to him herself. Ladybug just has to not get caught sneaking into his room to deliver it…





	my most piesed possession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Socchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socchan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ladybug is going to be unprofessional about Adrien's birthday present](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/494182) by art-deco-shrimp. 



Adrien jolted awake. A shadow at his window—

The window swung open, not quite silent—time for more WD-40—and a familiar silhouette dropped into his room.

Oh. Not awake, then. Dreaming again.

He didn't really want to get up—even in dreams, it seemed, the tiredness and phantom aches left over from the afternoon's akuma battle haunted him—but whatever sort of dream this was going to be, it would probably involve her coming to _him_ , so—

Ladybug whacked her shin on the sofa, lost her grip on the package she carried, and went sprawling across the carpet with a yelp.

—that was not her usual grace and dignity.

Adrien fumbled for his phone and put it on flashlight mode, sitting up.

Ladybug shrieked.

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Adrien, swinging out of bed. "Sorry about the light," he added, hurrying to her with the phone angled so it wouldn't shine in her eyes again.

"It's fine!" Ladybug exclaimed, beginning to pry herself off the floor, but she did keep her voice down. "It's okay! I'm the one doing the home invasion here, and there's no danger or anything, you could brain me with the nearest heavy thing and you'd be within your rights…"

"No danger?" Adrien repeated, confused. Not a dream (more's the pity), not a rescue— "What's happening, then? Why are you here?"

Ladybug shrugged, getting up to look around. "Heard it's your birthday tomorrow. Thought I'd wish you a good one."

"…Thank you, but…" Oh, she was probably worried about a reprise of the Bubbler, or the Party Pooper. Why else would she _know_ his birthday, never mind remember it? "…you couldn't do that in the daylight?"

"I could," Ladybug allowed, "but…" She shook her head and, finding her green-wrapped package, scooped it up and yanked off the gift tag, crumpling that in her hand. "Here."

Adrien took the gift with unsteady hands. It was soft, whatever it was: the wrapping paper might conceal the item's texture but not its stiffness, or lack thereof. He set his phone on the arm of the sofa for a lamp, then turned the package over to slide a fingernail under the tape, careful not to damage the paper any more than absolutely necessary. Plagg would mock him later, surely, but—the wrapping was a gift from his Lady, too.

It was a black tee, which when he shook it out of its folds looked about the right size, maybe a little large: judging by the slightly uneven stitching at its V-neck and its total lack of tag— "You made this?"

She blushed. "Look at the front."

Five appliquéd embroidered patches, matching (he observed, holding the shirt closer to the light) the stripe colors of his paparazzi-confounding everyday tees: again, not work his father would dare sell, but the simple fact of there _being_ visible imperfections proved _she'd made this_.

_√−1 2 3 Σ π  
nom_

"—I love you," blurted Adrien. "This is incredible, I—"

Ladybug was looking at the crumpled gift tag in her hand.

"—You took off the gift tag," Adrien said slowly. "You weren't trying to give me this as _Ladybug_."

"I was going to leave it on your desk and sneak out again," Ladybug admitted without looking up. "The last couple years—well, this time I wanted to be _sure_ you knew it was me."

A valid consideration, unfortunately. Adrien had had to bcc his thank-you email for his fifteenth birthday presents to everyone at the party, since Miraculous Cure hadn't been of the opinion that the presents needed the wrapping paper and tags reattached, and if Lila got hold of Marinette's email address, there would probably be murder done. There almost had been anyway—Lila had taken exception to Adrien's extraordinarily mature use of clever scatological humor, and Marinette had taken exception to Lila.

"Except you still don't," Ladybug added, in a very small voice. "And you shouldn't find out."

Oh. "I know you, don't I?" It made sense. Ladybug was often as quick to respond to attacks involving Adrien's school as Chat Noir himself—and he had better derail that train of thought. "I'm sorry. I won't try to find out, I promise."

"Thanks," Ladybug told him, with a small sad smile. "I know I can count on you."

Adrien nodded, throat dry. "And if anyone gets to know who you are under there, it should be your partner," he said. "Not a random pretty face with a _Kick Me_ sign taped to his back for all the akumas to see."

She snorted. "Yes, of course. But you think too little of yourself. I know how hard you work, Adrien. I know how loyal you are. And how kind. And if you think I don't know _exactly_ why you were Patient One of the kissing zombie outbreak, or I didn't notice who started that evacuation or who first realized it was contagious, well, you're wrong." She looked up at him, her fingers twisting around each other. "I'm impressed by your willpower. Everyone else who got kissed went under a lot faster."

—oh _right_. "Um. Thanks?"

Ladybug glanced away, taking a deep breath, then turned back to him and smirked. "Besides. It's not your fault you're pretty."

Despite himself, Adrien laughed.

—Was—he misreading this, or—

"I should go," said Ladybug abruptly, and turned—

"Wait!"

She turned back.

"Feel free to deck me if I'm overstepping," Adrien told her—she understood this with Chat Noir, he was sure, but she would think of Adrien as a lot more fragile, which to be fair wasn't wrong. "Um." Shit, this was a lot harder without his mask. "Could—"

He swallowed, stepping closer. Larger-than-life as Ladybug always seemed, it was disconcerting to realize once again how _small_ she was.

"Could I get a birthday kiss?"

Ladybug blinked at him, jaw dropped.

"—Never mind," Adrien mumbled, going over to fall onto the sofa cushions and absorb himself in the texture of the cotton and embroidery, so he wouldn't have to see the horror and disgust rising in her eyes. "You must get that too often. I of all people should know that."

"Hey," said Ladybug—had she _followed_ him? _why_?—and her hand cradled his jaw and turned his face up to hers.

It felt like flying.

Ladybug pulled away far too soon, her cheeks pink beneath the shadows, and he'd never seen her with a softer smile.

"Wow," Adrien said hoarsely. "I think I died and went to heaven."

She swatted his shoulder.

"…Or not."

"Don't you start," Ladybug told him. "I get too much of that from Chat Noir." She pulled away to head out, pausing a moment halfway to the window. "Happy birthday, handsome boy."

Adrien stayed on the sofa, smiling down at the shirt she'd made him, for a long time.

* * *

He didn't dare wear Ladybug's gift to school _on_ his birthday, of course. Not and be able to say it _was_ a birthday present. If anyone asked, he planned to tell them the shirt was a gift from someone he cared about, not otherwise specified. He wouldn't tell them it was Ladybug, and she herself would probably be careful to conceal any reaction to seeing him wear it just in case she _couldn't_ trust him not to look for her, but if anyone got the idea it was from the person he worked with and had fallen in love with and never named to anyone, and Ladybug learned that—

Well, that wouldn't be _his_ doing, would it?

The day after, Adrien arrived at school, looking around as always for his friends: there—Marinette and Alya! Marinette looked upset, Alya trying to encourage and comfort her: "—because I chickened out!" he heard Marinette wail, even muffled as it was by her hands.

"Just go give it to him now, girl!" suggested Alya as Adrien headed toward them. "He won't mind, I promise!"

"But I _can't_!"

Alya waved Adrien over. "Tell her you have no problem with her giving you a birthday present a little late."

"Why would I have a problem with that?" Adrien asked, confused. "I'm just glad I get birthday presents at all." He smiled at her, though she wasn't looking: "And anything from a friend like you is something to treasure."

"You think so?" Marinette's voice was small and sad and hesitant.

"I don't think you appreciate just how few birthday presents I've ever gotten," Adrien told her.

Alya's gaze caught on Adrien's chest. She nudged Marinette: "Hey, isn't—"

Marinette turned her head, took him in with one glance— _√−1 2 3 Σ π_ tee and all—and pivoted away. "See, now I _really_ can't! My gift isn't even original! I have to do something else!"

Ignoring the bells that set ringing, Adrien took two steps after her and caught her shoulder. "No, you don't," he told her. "You can give me what you already planned," if she wasn't Ladybug, "or something else," in case she was. "Whatever you want. I promise I'll love it."

Marinette stood still under his hand, her throat moving as she swallowed.

"I think that came out wrong," Adrien realized. "Look, my father's idea of showing affection is buying me things, right? None of it _means_ anything. I think the only thing he's given me in years that meant anything is that scarf for my fourteenth birthday, and it wasn't the _scarf_ that mattered! It's that he _made_ it. Himself. He thought about what I wanted, and he spent several hours with a pair of knitting needles. Probably multitasking," Adrien added ruefully, "probably keeping the project out of sight of whoever he was videocalling, but—"

Belatedly, he realized Marinette was trembling.

"—Marinette?"

"Yeah, no," said Alya to Marinette, "it's been two years, girl, I am not putting up with this any longer." She took Marinette by the other shoulder and spun her around to face Adrien. " _Marinette_ made that scarf."

Wait.

"She tried to give it to you herself," Alya continued. "But Chloé had to be the center of your attention, and she lost her nerve."

What?

"And then I made her bring it to your house, and when I saw at the not-party that you hadn't opened it yet, I had her sign her name."

_The last couple years—_

"I don't know what happened next. I just know you showed up at school all pleased with the scarf your _father_ gave you." Alya spit the word like a malediction.

_—I wanted to be **sure** you knew it was me—_

"But it was from Marinette all along."

"Oh," said Adrien.

Marinette told Hawkmoth to kiss Ladybug's ass. _Marinette_ carried Adrien away from Riposte. **Marinette** decided to be tyrannosaur lunch—

Adrien crushed Marinette in an embrace, trembling as badly as she was. "I'm sorry," he told her, meaning more than one thing. "I thought you hated me for a long time." Also: no wonder Chat Noir hadn't impressed Marinette much during the Evillustrator attack, no matter how he'd tried to give her _one_ good first impression of him. Ladybug was already wise to him. "But you never did, did you? You wouldn't have put so much work into that if you hated me."

"No," Marinette said into his shoulder, relaxing enough to hug him back. "I never did."

"Also," said Alya, "your father is an _asshole_."

Adrien shrugged, loosening his hold on Marinette just a little. "That was probably Nathalie. I bet neither she nor Father remembered it was my birthday until you turned up at the gate with my birthday present." Why hadn't he thought the blue-and-pink box Marinette was holding out that day was her birthday present for him? "Come to think, I bet neither did Chloé."

He could smell her lavender-rosemary shampoo, but if he buried his nose in her hair right this moment, he could expect to get his ass kicked later. And deserve it.

"Leaving out Nino's brilliant idea," Adrien said, "because Hawkmoth stuck his beady little antennae in to screw up the execution—" (Marinette stifled a laugh.) "—I only got two presents that year."

He leaned down to her ear, lowering his voice, because if the Ladyblogger got even the faintest idea of what they weren't saying here—

"You should tell your partner."

Adrien let go of Marinette's frozen form. "I like being your friend," he told her. "I don't care so much about the presents. And all I wanted from the day we met is to be your friend." Was she even hearing him? "I wish you'd told me sooner, that you made that scarf," he added, because it wasn't that he _didn't_ wish he'd known it all sooner, but he couldn't let her _think_ that. "I need to rethink my whole relationship with my father now. I've been giving him _far_ more credit than he probably deserves."

Marinette shivered, focusing on Adrien again. "Because you thought he cared enough to make you that scarf," she said, in a tone of confirming her facts.

Thinking about his father, Adrien could only half smile. "Exactly. Because I thought he cared." And why would he want to think about _him_ right now, when he could be grinning at Ladybug and beckoning her after him? "Come on, let's get to class."

* * *

Ladybug's tracker was showing at the school, and she'd left a voicemail telling Chat Noir she needed to tell him something and he might not like it. Chat found her on the roof, watching the sunset: "Hey, Chat," she said, without turning.

"Evening, my lady." Had she been crying? "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so—" And that was a choked-off sob.

Oh, great. Chat ran over everything he knew about Marinette's day—her week, when he couldn't think of anything upsetting she could have done—while vacillating on whether to offer her a hug. "Sorry for what?"

Ladybug looked over, tear marks plain on her cheeks. "Someone knows who I am."

Well _shit_. He'd known that would be a problem. It hadn't occurred to him it would be a _make her cry_ sort of problem. "How much of a problem is this?" Then, because this absolutely was something Chat Noir would suggest if he didn't already know who knew, he held up his right hand, its back to her, and wiggled his fingers: "Need me to take care of it?"

"No!" Ladybug grabbed his wrist in a surprisingly painful grip. "No," she repeated. "Don't hurt him. Don't you dare."

"All right." Chat covered her hands with his free one. "Someone important?"

"Very," said Ladybug with half a laugh. "Chat, you should have known first. If I'd ever thought it was safe for anyone to know at all, I would have told you _first_."

"I'm glad to hear that." Wait. Very? "So who is this very important someone?"

"I—" Ladybug let him go and turned back to the sunset, though she wasn't looking at it. "Chat, I don't want to hurt you."

"What does that have to do with anything?" If Ladybug had _chosen_ for someone else to know her secret—anyone else, for any reason other than the other option was Marinette watching someone die who Ladybug could have saved, or Ladybug not making it to an akuma battle because Marinette was trapped—even if the anyone else was Adrien himself— "You didn't tell him, right? He figured it out. You didn't want him to." She gave a small nod. "Ladybug, this is only hurting me because it's hurting _you_."

"You haven't heard who he is yet." She paused, giving Chat space to wonder why she thought _Adrien_ knowing Ladybug's name might hurt _Chat Noir_. "Hell, you haven't heard who _I_ am yet. I've met you with my mask off, Chaton. I've lied to you."

Ladybug hated liars. Always had. But—that she meant to tell _Chat Noir_ her name now, even if she was only doing it because it wasn't fair that someone neither her partner nor their mentor knew when her partner himself did not—

"Burn that bridge when we come to it?" Chat suggested.

"Whatever." Ladybug sighed. "I just…don't want you thinking he found out before you did because I'm in love with him, not you."

— _What_?

"Which is the obvious conclusion you'd draw," Ladybug continues, "without knowing how he found out."

"…No, I don't think it is."

Had he ever before heard who Ladybug loves? That _Marinette_ loved _Chat Noir_ , he thought he knew last week. She'd probably grabbed the first vaguely plausible thing to tell him in hopes Chat Noir would think literally anything of Marinette's frequent presence after akuma attacks other than that Marinette herself was Ladybug. Nothing else made sense, since if _Ladybug_ loved Chat Noir, _Ladybug_ would have said so! But the name of Ladybug's beloved—no, he didn't think he'd ever heard.

That Ladybug loved _Adrien_?

It would certainly explain the birthday kiss. But she'd never told him that before.

Ladybug was watching him with a bewildered expression.

"LB, you could tell me the guy who found you out is your video game buddy, or your partner on a chemistry assignment, or your favorite billboard model, and I wouldn't know he's the guy you're in love with if you hadn't just said so. You've never told me his name."

"Oh," said Ladybug, shoulders slumping. "So now I'm just hurting you for no reason, I guess."

That was the opposite of the truth. "Bug—"

"I probably shouldn't tell you who he is, then," Ladybug said quietly. "You get jealous sometimes. I thought you knew who he was and you were leaving him alone on purpose, but if it's just that I never told you—"

"Put it this way," interrupted Chat, "I don't plan to hurt him. Or to let him _get_ hurt if there's another option." She half smiled at that, rueful, and probably thinking of how Chat Noir never planned to let himself get hurt, either. "I wouldn't hurt you like that. I hurt you enough as it is."

Ladybug nodded, straightening her spine. "His name's Adrien Agreste. I know you've met."

Chat nodded back. "You know how much knowing that _doesn't_ narrow down who you are, right?"

She rolled her eyes and said nothing.

And nothing.

And nothing—

His stomach plummeted. "— _Are_ you planning to tell me who you are?"

Ladybug turned and folded into his arms. "I don't know," she said into his shoulder.

Oh.

"Is this still a safety concern," Chat asked, trying to pick his way through the minefield her emotions surely were, "or—?"

She shook her head frantically without lifting it from his heart. "I can't. I _can't_ , Chat, I—you're important to me, you know that? You're too important to screw this up. And—and you might tell _Adrien_ I love him, and I can't screw that up _either_!"

"You've never told him?" Chat asked, tone deliberately neutral. That she hadn't, he knew. _Why_ she hadn't—

Ladybug glared up at him. "I'm scared, all right? I'm scared I'll lose him. Just like I'm scared I'll lose you!"

Okay, fuck _this_ noise. "That isn't going to happen. I promise." How to phrase—ah. "I wasn't Patient One for Zombizou, like you said. I faked the symptoms so you wouldn't insist on keeping me with the class and then worry when your partner didn't show up."

She blinked at him, jaw dropped.

"I didn't think you _did_ remember who realized it was contagious." Did he dare let her know how much he wanted to kiss her right now? "I didn't think Ladybug noticed me much at all. But then I didn't think Marinette liked me much either," he noted. "I guess maybe I just—"

 _—wasn't paying attention_ , he would have finished, if Ladybug hadn't lunged up on tiptoe to pull him down for a fierce kiss.

He stared down at her, dazed and breathless, when she finally pulled away.

"No dying," Ladybug ordered. "No dying and going to heaven. Not hell either. _Absolutely not_."

"No promises," Chat managed. Ladybug knowing who her partner was and how much they loved each other did not _change_ the equation of _Ladybug needs to survive every battle more than Chat Noir does, because Chat Noir does not wield creation_. It just meant it would hurt her more when that equation came back to bite him. "But I'll try."

Ladybug nodded, frowning, and buried her face in his shoulder again.

Then she pulled out of his reach altogether, smiling. "Want to go to my place and play a few rounds of Mecha Strike?"

"Under which face?" he wondered. "And are we telling your parents there's romance involved? Because your papa can be intimidating and I don't want to know what he'll say to either of me if he knows there's romance involved, but also I kind of want to know how differently he'll interrogate Adrien than he did Chat Noir."

She paused before launching her yo-yo. "No mask," she decided. "And no romance. Yet."

Chat pouted.

"I'm sorry, kitten, but if Adrien and Marinette don't start dating till several weeks after Ladybug and Chat Noir have gotten caught kissing too often to deny anything anymore, that's a lot safer, don't you think?"

He did have to agree with that.

"Meanwhile…" Marinette's smirk in anticipation of sweet victory was a _dangerous_ Ladybug expression. "Last one to the bakery owes the winner a kiss?"

Chat grinned at her and leaped off the roof, grabbing his baton from his back as he fell.

* * *

Alya had Marinette cornered when Adrien got to school the next morning. "I _told_ you!" Alya was exclaiming. "They've been dating since Oblivio, at least! They just didn't want anyone to know!"

"Oblivio?" repeated Adrien, coming up to them. "You mean the one where you showed the whole world a private romantic moment and Ladybug didn't say more than five words to you for the next month?"

Alya flushed. Marinette went red.

Adrien pulled up the Ladyblog on his own phone. Alya had only posted this fifteen minutes earlier, it seemed, which explained why he hadn't seen this already. The photo was grainy—probably taken from a distance, with a lens that wasn't meant for that sort of shot, then cropped—but those silhouettes were unmistakably Ladybug kissing Chat Noir like their lives depended on it.

"No, this has got to be new," Adrien told them, studying the photo as though it were of strangers. "Look, his tail's straight out—I don't think he saw that coming."

Alya eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you say that?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Alya, he's a _cat_. Adrien," she added, and he turned to her: she was holding out a small flat package, wrapped in the same green paper he was thinking of framing and hanging above his bed. "Happy birthday."

He slit open the tape with a fingernail and unfolded the paper: it was a simple black wooden picture frame, with a colored-pencil drawing inside of a fruit pie (blackberry?) with a lattice crust. A sixth or so of the pie plate was empty, with detailed crumbs and smears; to one side, a similarly empty saucer labeled _pie I've eaten_ , above a saucer with a chunk off the missing piece, labeled _pie I haven't eaten yet_. Marinette's signature was tiny, curving around the _c_ in the large label _pie chart_ , and yesterday's date ran along the vertical of the _h_.

It took a couple tries before Adrien could speak. "Well," he said finally. "Aren't you a sweetie pie."

She squeaked, hiding her face in her hands.

"Really." Adrien smiled at her. "Pie love it."

"You are baking my heart," Marinette told him, muffled, and Adrien laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> The square root of negative one is imaginary. Two cubed is eight. The capital letter sigma is the summation sign, and the ratio of a circle's circumference and diameter is pi: _I ate some pie_ , reads the shirt Marinette made Adrien. (The usual punchline is "and it was delicious".)
> 
> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](http://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


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